


In Paris

by maat_seshat



Category: John Adams (TV)
Genre: F/M, Multi, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-01
Updated: 2009-02-01
Packaged: 2019-09-20 00:38:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17012208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maat_seshat/pseuds/maat_seshat
Summary: Written for the Porn Battle prompt: Abigail/Jefferson, admire.More accurately, Abigail/Jefferson(/Adams).





	In Paris

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Porn Battle prompt: Abigail/Jefferson, admire. 
> 
> More accurately, Abigail/Jefferson(/Adams).

Abigail told herself it was Paris, these vast and private gardens in which they took daily walks; Paris, where Benjamin Franklin had once told her husband he must find a mistress to belong. In Paris, they seemed to slip free of their Massachusetts strictures. It was ... seductive.

As was Thomas's breath as it brushed warm and damp across her neck. "It is a pity that your husband is so enamored of his jealousy," he murmured. "I believe he might enjoy watching."

The words captured her imagination, and she closed her eyes against reckless and irresistible thoughts. It didn't help, as the sun-bright path before her darkened to the shaded bedroom in which John had welcomed her to France. It was still brilliant midday, but the curtains were nearly closed, and the scraps of sunlight that trickled in through their juncture turned the room into a dreamy otherworld, an impression heightened by the silken whisper of Thomas' hair over her shoulders, over her breasts.

She felt his hands along the curve of her hip, soft scholar's hands with the calluses placed perfectly for writing and violin, but not for the silly daily tasks that kept a small farm running. She wondered if that was Virginia or the same Paris that had turned her hands petal-smooth. Perhaps it was both.

She lost her thoughts as he leaned down and feathered kisses along her neck, so lightly that blended into the sensation of his breath on her shoulder. She nearly turned, and tumbled him down from the elbow upon which he had propped himself, so that she could reach and touch, but his thumb stroking around to the small of her back reminded her why they had chosen this position.

Her eyes focused upon John, sitting in a chair at the corner of the room, beside the window, shadowed by the narrow shaft of light behind him, and still fully dressed but for his discarded vest and jacket, and his collar gaping open. She could see him swallowing harshly, staring as though he _could not_ look away, and her lips curled into a wicked smile that she felt Thomas mirroring against her neck. No, she would not interrupt his view.

Instead, she reached down and brought Thomas' hand up to her lips, traced her tongue over the inside of his wrist in circles that made him gasp at the same time that she heard John's breath stop, caught in his throat. John didn't draw in another, shaky breath until she let Thomas tug his hand back to brush her hair from her ear and whisper, "Tease," in a low voice before he licked his way along the edge of her ear in a way that made her own breath catch.

In another moment, she and Thomas would rise from the bed, and _pull_ John into it, laughing and undressing him between them. For now, though, she arched her back into Thomas' teasing touch as he dragged his forefinger down her spine, leaving a delicious tingling in its wake, and enjoyed the heat of her husband's eyes upon them both.

Abigail snapped her eyes open, startled by the vividness of her vision, her _fantasy_ , about the man still walking beside her, and stunned by its detail, by the little thoughts that made it something lasting. She swallowed, and angled her next steps slightly sideways, away from the maddening warmth of Thomas' breath. Though not far enough, perhaps--she didn't dare look--to escape the warmth of his eyes.


End file.
